


Forever and Always

by isthepartyover



Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthepartyover/pseuds/isthepartyover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe where the shooter at McKinley was actually out to hurt someone, Blaine is killed, and Kurt struggles to move on with his life. And Blaine wants to help him. Written for the 2013 KBReversebang</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever and Always

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Jessica, for drawing the art for this fic; Rebecca, for betaing this monster; Sarah, for cheering me on, letting me basically liveblog writing this to her (complete with venting fic woes and feels), and talking me down when I had doubts; and Savanna for reading it over :)

Kurt wasn’t so sure that he could actually do it.

It hurt to even think about walking in there, seeing everyone, walking up to the…

No.

He wasn’t going in.

He couldn’t.

Not when-

Not after-

Kurt swallowed, gasping a bit and wiping at the watery trails that were heading steadily down his cheeks, the one part of his brain that was still being rational telling him that he had to, it wasn’t going to make anything any easier by not going in there.

So, Kurt sniffled once more, held his head high with his face carefully schooled into the closest thing to a calm expression as he could, and pushed open the doors to the church, walking slowly up to the coffin at the front of the large room, dread growing in the pit of his stomach with every step.

“I’m sorry, B.” he was able to choke out once he got to the front of the room, looking down at Blaine’s peaceful expression, instinctively reaching out and stroking Blaine’s cold cheek, and dammit, there go the tears again. “I love you.”

Someone’s hand was suddenly on his arm, and Kurt turned to see Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana, all three looking at him with concern.

“We should go sit down, okay?” Santana told him, her voice oddly kind and caring. Kurt nodded jerkily and let the three girls lead him to one of the unoccupied pews close to the front of the room, slumping down once he was seated.

*

_Blaine was scared._

_There had been shots fired._

_Two, loud, jarring, frightening._

_He curled further in on himself behind the bookshelf that he had hidden behind near the doorway , unable to get himself to do anything, only to stay as still and quiet as he could while the other members of the glee club whispered and cried and worried on the other half of the room._

_His mind repeated one word, over and over, in between every coherent thought he had._

_Kurt. He’s safe, he’s fine, Tina and Brittany aren’t, they’re not here. Kurt. I should call my parents, or at least text, let them know…Kurt. Him first. Always Kurt first. Kurt. Besides, this might be the last time he could-_

_The door burst open, and everyone in the room went silent._

_For some reason, the silence somehow the one thing that spurred Blaine into action again, carefully and quickly sliding his phone out of his pocket with oddly steady hands and unlocking it while everyone stared with wide, frightened eyes at the intruder._

To: Kurt

I love y

_“Blaine Anderson.” a voice said, one so familiar and jarring to Blaine, that he dropped his phone, slowly looking up, tears coming to his eyes, because no, it couldn’t be, not after so long, not here, not no-_

_A sharp crack sounded, and then…_

_Nothing._

*

Kurt didn’t leave his bed for over a week after the funeral, buried under an almost-mountain of blankets and pillows.

Rachel and Santana were concerned, of course, and tried to help in their own ways.

Rachel cooked insane amounts of food, and brought almost all of it into Kurt’s room, pulling the covers off of him and forcing him to eat at least three square meals a day, if not more.

Santana didn’t try to get Kurt out from under his blanket mountain, but every single day, she would sit down next to the person-shaped lump on his bed and watch bad reality TV for hours upon end, silent except for an occasional snort at what was going on onscreen.

They were relieved when they woke up that Saturday morning to find Kurt standing in the kitchen, baggy shirt and sweats practically hanging off of him as he made pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

But he was up and moving, and Rachel and Santana assumed that meant things were going to be okay from then on.

They didn’t know the thoughts that were echoing non-stop through Kurt’s head, they didn’t know that the cooking, the acting normal and okay, was just a façade, just a ploy to distract himself.

Distract himself from the constant, horrible pain of missing Blaine.

*

_Blaine didn’t know where he was at first._

_The high ceiling, the dark curtains on the windows, and the dark, striped sheets on the bed where he was lying, none of it was familiar._

_It was the pictures scattered around the room that made him connect the pieces._

_The snapshots of the Hummel-Hudsons, the group photo they had all taken for the yearbook last year, that one picture from the newspaper after they had won Nationals, the pictures of Blaine himself…_

_He was in Kurt’s room, at the loft in New York._

_But… But how?_

_Last thing he remembered was…_

_Oh. Oh god._

_Blaine shot up from the mattress like he had been electrocuted, staring ahead at the dark curtain with wide, frightened eyes._

_Had he been-_

_No. No, he was here in New York, he was rea-_

_Kurt entered the room then, a distant, unattached look in his eyes and a smile on his face that Blaine could tell was faked, undoing the buttons on his jacket and setting it carefully down on the small desk in the corner before sitting down on the bed, back to where Blaine was sitting._

_It was then the mask cracked, when Kurt let his head drop into his hands and his shoulders shake with suppressed tears._

_Blaine forgot all about the mystery of how he had gotten there, what had happened after-after he had gotten into the choir room, in favor of trying to comfort Kurt in any possible way he could._

_“Kurt?” he asked, tentatively. “Kurt, are you okay?”_

_There was no reply, only the harsh, ragged breaths from Kurt’s quiet sobs._

_“Kurt?” Blaine asked, a little more boldly and loudly, this time reaching a hand out to touch Kurt’s shoulder._

_It passed right through._

_“Kurt, wanna go get takeout at that creepy little shop down the street with me?” Santana suddenly called, and in almost no time, Kurt had composed himself, looking as normal as he had when he had walked in the room._

_“Don’t be rude, I think that little old man who works there finds you creepy, too.” he scolded jokingly, grabbing his jacket and putting it on before he left the room once more._

_Blaine stayed frozen on the bed, still in shock._

*

If there was one thing Kurt knew he was good at, it was pretending.

Pretending that he was fine, that he was perfectly okay and moving along with his life like everyone expected him to be able to do, when inside he was breaking apart.

Even after everything that had happened in October between them, Blaine had still always been there for him, no matter how much Kurt had tried to shove him away at first.

But now that Blaine was really, truly gone, Kurt felt like he was floating.

He had lost his anchor, the one person that had kept him together even when his life felt like it was falling apart. The one person who knew him the best, who had seen him at his most vulnerable, and who had understood why he was the way he was, because he had been through similar situations.

And now he didn’t know how to get through the day without locking away all of his emotions and just pretending that he was alright.

Because every single time he let himself feel anything at all, he would just break down and sob, the pain of losing Blaine like a fresh wound on his heart.

He missed Blaine, the silly little texts he would get in the middle of the day about whatever was going on in New New Directions that week or complaints about Coach Sue and the little bashful smiles he would give Kurt every week when they talked over Skype.

Blaine was someone irreplaceable to Kurt, a literal diamond in the rough of small-town Ohio, someone who loved him unconditionally and who needed Kurt as much as Kurt needed him. Even after they had broken up, he was still there to comfort Kurt and make him feel better when things got bad, because he knew Kurt better than even his own dad knew him.

The dreams Kurt kept having made getting through each and every day even worse.

They were all of Blaine, more like snapshots than dreams, flickering images of him sitting on Kurt’s bed, or looking out his window, or following Kurt around as he went about his day. His expression never changed, it stayed in a hopeless, sad sort of yearning look, and his eyes were always on Kurt.

Kurt would wake up with tears in his eyes and a faint feeling of frustration, like there was something stopping him from dreaming of more than those short snapshots.

But that wasn’t possible, his subconscious or whatever part of his brain that was making up those dreams was just making him suffer.

Kurt lived for those dreams, though, the thought of Blaine with him as he went through his routine something that he wanted to see, some little trace that Blaine was still with him even though Kurt knew that Blaine wasn’t really there, would never be there again.

*

_Blaine didn’t know what to do._

_He was just…there._

_He couldn’t talk to anyone, or touch them, or even be seen._

_All he could do was follow Kurt around, watching him live his life without Blaine in it._

_Because Blaine was dead._

_He couldn’t help but laugh at that when he had realized what was actually going on. He was dead, a ghost, and he was still clinging onto Kurt, one of the many people he had let down, and the one person who he had hurt the most._

_It was almost cruel, being able to see Kurt but not interact with him in any way at all._

_Especially since he knew how much Kurt was hurting._

_Blaine could see that Kurt was just pretending to be okay, that every single thing Kurt did that made everyone else believe that he was okay was all an act._

_Because Blaine could see the pain in his eyes, the way he seemed to shut down when nobody else was around, the way Kurt muffled his sobs into his pillow every night and the way he murmured Blaine’s name in a voice that could only be described as broken in the middle of the night as he slept._

_Most nights, Blaine couldn’t help but curl up on Kurt’s bed next to him; a hesitant hand reaching out every single time Kurt stirred in his sleep or made a whimpering noise, like he was having a nightmare._

_But then he remembered he couldn’t touch Kurt, couldn’t soothe him in any way because technically he wasn’t real, and he curled his fingers back up into his palm and pulled his hand away._

_Blaine didn’t care that he had died. Everyone died, in the end, and after all that he had been through, all the things he had fucked up over the years, it only seemed fitting that he would die the way he did._

_He cared that Kurt was suffering, though, and he would do anything to help him move on._

_Kurt deserved much better than him._

*

Santana took Rachel and Kurt out for her birthday, to a loud, obnoxious club where everyone on the dance floor was grinding against one another.

She ordered both of them something that burned Kurt’s throat as it went down, and then a couple more drinks before she dragged the two out into the middle of the dance floor.

The combination of the drinks and the loud music helped Kurt not to think about anything at all, turning off the part of his brain that talked him out of doing things.

He came back to himself when he was being pressed into his bed, some nameless stranger kissing his neck and reaching for the button of his jeans.

Kurt knows that this is a random hookup, that this guy means nothing to him and he shouldn’t care at all what was happening and should just let himself enjoy it.

But he couldn’t.

Kurt’s hands flew up, shoving the guy off of him and panting, “No!”

He suddenly couldn’t breathe, shaking uncontrollably and trying to stop himself from crying.

“You okay?” the guy asked, suddenly appearing in Kurt’s field of vision.

“I… no. I’m sorry.” Kurt mumbled, feeling sick to his stomach and hating himself a little for not being able to go through with it.

The guy shrugged, walking away and grabbing his shirt off the floor as he said, “It’s cool. You just got out of a long relationship, right?”

“Wha-” Kurt started, the nausea only intensifying.

“The pictures on your nightstand. Old boyfriend, right? S’okay, I went through the same thing last year, it completely sucks,” the guy told Kurt. “But hey, when you’re over this guy, feel free to look me up.”

He then left without another word.

Kurt slowly turned his head to look at his nightstand, the breath knocked out of him when he saw the photos of Blaine sitting there, grinning in that special way of his that he only did in front of Kurt, like his face might split if he smiled any wider.

Kurt’s vision blurred with tears, and he let out a sob, reaching out for one of the pictures.

“I miss you,” he whimpered, pressing the cool glass of the frame to his forehead. “Why did that… why did that asshole have to kill you before I could get to tell you I still loved you?”

He fell asleep like that, shirtless and crying, still holding the picture of Blaine.

*

Kurt didn’t leave his room for the rest of the weekend, and on Monday, he only left to announce to Rachel and Santana that he was leaving the next morning for Lima.

He needed to go home, to his dad and Carole and where everything was so much calmer and where he could hopefully figure out what was wrong with him, why he kept going back to Blaine so long after his death.

He showed up the next afternoon at his dad’s home, hesitantly hitting the doorbell and hoping his dad would understand why he was there.

And judging from the hug he was immediately pulled into once the door was opened, his dad understood perfectly.

*

“Does it ever get… easier?” Kurt asked, slumping down into the couch. His dad sat across from him in the armchair, and sighed.

“Not for a long time.” His dad admitted, frowning when Kurt slumped even further into the couch. “You’re hurtin’ real bad still, aren’t you?”

“I really miss him.” Kurt admitted, his voice slightly cracking as he spoke. “It’s been months, and it just keeps getting worse, I went out with Santana and Rachel the other day and I tried to just have a random hookup, but I couldn’t and I can’t stop thinking about him and it’s just so hard to keep going.”

Kurt pulled his legs up to his chest, holding them there, and his dad’s expression softened, suddenly reminded of how Kurt used to do that when he was little and telling him about all the things that other kids would do to him at school.

“Look, kiddo, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s not gonna be any easier, not for a long time. But you know what made it easier for me after your mom died?”

“What?” Kurt sniffled.

“Well, first of all, you,” his dad told him. Kurt cracked a small smile at that, and he continued. “Also, I just knew that your mom would want me to keep going, and that wherever she was, she would always be watching after us. And I wanted to make her proud.”

Kurt was silent for a while, looking at his knees. “Do you really think he’s watching over me somewhere?”

“Bud, that kid loved you with everything he had. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth, there’s no way he isn’t watching after you somehow.”

Kurt bit his lip and nodded, still lost in his own thoughts.

*

He couldn’t sleep that night, his dad’s words echoing through his head along with all the memories that he had shared with Blaine in his old bedroom.

Quietly, he slipped out of bed and pulled on an old hoodie along with his shoes.

Kurt carefully made his way outside, trying his best not to wake his dad or Carole, and started down the sidewalk, making his way over to the one part of town that he hated that he knew so well.

The heavy, dark gate squealed loudly as he pushed it open, and Kurt glanced around nervously, hoping nobody would come and confront him for visiting a graveyard in the middle of the night.

After a few minutes of silence, Kurt let out a relieved breath and made his way inside the field, searching around until he found the right headstone.

_In Loving Memory of Blaine Anderson_

_February 26, 1995-March 12, 2013_

_Beloved Son and Friend_

Kurt still didn’t like the message on the headstone; he thought it was distant and detached and didn’t fit as any sort of memorial to someone as amazing and wonderful as Blaine had been.

Kurt crouched down, for once not caring about the state of his clothes or his hands as he brushed away the dirt and grime already starting to cover it.

“Hi.” Kurt murmured, hating the way his voice cracked on the word. “Been a while, hasn’t it? …That was a horrible joke, I’m sorry.” It was quiet for a long moment before Kurt was able to figure out what to say.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine.” he finally choked out. “I know… I know it’s not my fault you died, but… but I can’t help but feel guilty because… because I didn’t… I never… I still love you, and you never knew, and I hate that, Blaine, I hate that you died not knowing that I still love you, I hate that you died in the first place, I hate that that asshole from your old school’s Sadie Hawkins went and hunted you down, it’s all just… so unfair.”

Kurt pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his head into his arms where they were crossed over his knees.

“I really miss you,” he sobbed.

*

_Blaine had stayed behind when the three went out, not wanting to see them having fun and enjoying themselves because he knew the only thing that would come out of it for him would be heartache._

_It wasn’t much of a surprise when Kurt came tumbling into the loft in the early hours of the morning, practically attached to some random guy’s lips._

_Blaine tried to ignore the feeling of sadness and jealousy that flared up in his chest, knowing that it was only right after all he had done, Kurt had every right to be hooking up with random guys now that he was gone for good._

_But it was a huge surprise when the guy came back out of Kurt’s room, re-buttoning up his shirt as he walked out._

_Curious, Blaine walked into Kurt’s room to see Kurt reaching for a picture on his nightstand, tears gathering in his eyes._

_“I miss you,” he heard Kurt whimper, his voice broken and so, so sad._

_Blaine did the only thing he was able to do._

_He walked over to Kurt, crying with the picture resting against his forehead, and laid down next to him, wishing he could do something more to comfort him._

*

_That feeling only intensified as the weekend passed, the only thing Blaine was able to do being to sit and watch as Kurt cried more, staying in his room under a pile of blankets, only leaving Monday to book a flight back to Lima and tell Rachel and Santana that he was leaving._

_*_

_Blaine followed Kurt to the graveyard, watching with concern as Kurt sat on his knees in front of Blaine’s headstone, Kurt’s hand going up to gently brush away some of the grime._

_Blaine sat next to him, curious as to why Kurt had gone there in the middle of the night._

_“Hi.” Kurt murmured, looking at Blaine’s name engraved into the headstone. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” Blaine snorted, and Kurt continued, “…That was a horrible joke, I’m sorry.”_

_“No, it wasn’t. Cooper tells worse.” Blaine told Kurt, even though he knew Kurt couldn’t hear him. It was silent for a few more moments before Kurt continued to speak._

_“I’m so sorry, Blaine.” Kurt suddenly said, his voice almost a sob. “I know… I know it’s not my fault you died, but… but I can’t help but feel guilty because… because I didn’t… I never… I still love you, and you never knew, and I hate that, Blaine, I hate that you died not knowing that I still love you, I hate that you died in the first place, I hate that that asshole from your old school’s Sadie Hawkins went and hunted you down, it’s all just… so unfair.”_

_Blaine watched as Kurt pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his head into his arms where they were crossed over his knees._

_“I really miss you,” he sobbed._

_Blaine wanted to pull him close and hold him, make everything better for Kurt somehow, but he couldn’t._

_“I really miss you, too, Kurt,” he murmured instead._

*

_The sun had just started to rise when Kurt fell back onto his bed, Blaine watching him with the same level of concern that he had been._

_He sat down on the edge of Kurt’s bed, reaching out his hand just like he always did. But this time, he didn’t pull it away, letting it hover over Kurt’s cheek, not letting it pass through him, like Blaine was about to brush away the pieces of his hair that were threatening to hang over Kurt’s eyes._

_Blaine felt his hand twitch, slipping through Kurt’s face._

_He immediately pulled it away, but not before the image of the hallways at Dalton appeared in his mind, the picture clear and bright, like he was actually there._

_Blaine stared at his hand, curiously, and then at Kurt’s sleeping face._

_He laid his hand back down onto Kurt’s face again, this time, purposely letting it slip through Kurt’s skin._

_He blinked, and suddenly he was in the Dalton hallways._

*

Kurt was holding Blaine’s hand, letting him lead him down the empty Dalton hallways, just like he had when they had first met, both of them smiling and laughing as they ran.

At the end of the hallway, Blaine stopped and turned to face Kurt, smiling kindly at him and leaning in like he was going to kiss him. Kurt closed his eyes, his heart beating quickly with anticipation of the feeling of Blaine’s lips on his.

But that feeling never came.

Kurt opened his eyes after a while, confused, to see no trace of Blaine anywhere.

“Blaine?” he asked, turning around and trying to ignore the way his heart ached. “Blaine, where are you? This isn’t funny.”

Blaine was still nowhere to be found.

“Blaine?” Kurt called out again, now trying to stop himself from crying. “Blaine!”

He saw movement in the corner of his eye, and turned quickly to see Blaine standing there.

But this wasn’t the same Blaine that had been with him before.

This Blaine looked both older and younger at the same time, and so much sadder than his Blaine. He was also wearing McKinley’s cheerleading uniform, and Kurt unconsciously took a step back, even though some part of his mind was telling him to go towards the Blaine in front of him and never let him go.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m not-I’m not… him,” Blaine told Kurt, his voice wavering.

Something clicked in Kurt’s mind, and he let out a little gasp as he remembered.

“Blaine?” he asked. “But… no, no, you died.”

Blaine inhaled sharply, and then said, his voice almost a sob, “I did.”

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Kurt suddenly laughed, looking up at the ceiling. “I get it, subconscious, I miss him, but this is just torture.”

“Kurt,” he heard Blaine breathe, and then there was a hand grabbing at his, a little hesitantly, like Blaine was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to touch it at all. “Kurt, I-I think you might be dreaming but… I’m really… I’m really here.”

“Prove it.” Kurt demanded, looking back down at Blaine. “Prove it, or I can’t believe you. Something I know my subconscious wouldn’t make up. Please.”

Blaine thought for a moment before he told him, “I… My phone. When… when you wake up, if this is a dream, find my phone.”

“Why?”

“The text I was typing right before I died was to you.” Blaine explained. “And…well, that text should be all the proof you need that this… this may be a dream, but I’m really here.”

Kurt nodded, letting out a choked, “okay,” before he let himself collapse into Blaine, starting to sob in earnest when Blaine’s arms went around him completely.

“Kurt,” he heard Blaine say in his ear, holding him even tighter, and Kurt let himself let out one last, shuddering sob before he pushed Blaine away from him and started looking him over.

“You’re okay, right?” Kurt asked, knowing that he sounded slightly hysterical, but at that moment he didn’t care.

“I’m a ghost, Kurt, of course not.” Blaine laughed bitterly, and Kurt looked him in the eyes, seeing the pain he had first noticed painted all over Blaine’s face.

“How long have you-”

“Since a bit after I died? A couple weeks after, at least,” Blaine explained. “I’ve… I’ve been with you the entire time, I know, that sounds creepy-”

“It’s not.” Kurt interrupted, feeling his heart leap a little (his dad was right, Blaine had been watching after him).

Blaine smiled a little, but the smile fell quickly as he said, “Kurt, you need to… I want you to move on with your life. Leave me behind, okay?”

“What?” Kurt asked, backing away a little. “Why-”

“You’re twenty, and you’re still stuck on me, your ex-high school boyfriend who cheated on you,” Blaine told him, shrugging weakly. “You should forget about me and move on.”

It was silent for a while, both of them staring at each other, Blaine with a sad smile, and Kurt with a look of utter shock and disbelief.

“No,” Kurt finally breathed. “No, Blaine Devon Anderson, I will not ‘just forget about you and move on’. You are so much more to me than my ‘ex-high school boyfriend who cheated on me’, you’re my best friend and my first love and the only one who cared and helped me for a while back when Karofsky was at his worst with me, you were always there for me no matter what was going on, even when I was mad at you, and you’re also my soulmate, Blaine Anderson, I don’t care what you or anyone else says, I love you, and I know I always will, okay?”

Blaine’s eyes widened a bit, and Kurt could see tears starting to gather in the corners of his eyes.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Kurt insisted.

Blaine pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Kurt again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Kurt murmured, nuzzling into Blaine’s neck.

They stayed there, just holding one another, until Kurt woke up.

*

_Blaine opened his eyes again in Kurt’s bedroom, right where he was before, with a glowing, happy feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time._

_He felt a warm, almost comforting light on his back, and he knew at once that it wasn’t the sun._

_Blaine smiled down at Kurt, who was screwing his eyes shut, in that way he did when he was trying to stay asleep but failing to._

_“I’ll see you later.” Blaine told him, quietly, and then stood up and walked around the bed._

*

Kurt stood in front of the Anderson’s front door for a long time before he was able to get himself to knock.

Blaine’s mother answered the door, looking at Kurt the way his dad had the day before; like she completely understood why he was there.

She invited him in, and offered him a cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted.

“I’m sorry for just barging in like this,” Kurt told her, staring down at the cup in front of him.

“No, don’t be,” she hummed, coming back to sit down across from Kurt at the kitchen table with her own cup. “I’ve been meaning to call you up and talk to you for a while, anyway.”

“What about?” Kurt asked.

“Well, there’s… Blaine’s room. He has a couple of things that I thought you might’ve wanted to have, and I just wanted to be sure before we went and either tossed it all out or donated it.” Mrs. Anderson explained. Kurt blinked, unsure of what to think at first.

“I mean, he has so many pictures and mementos of the two of you, I didn’t know if you would want to keep a few of them,” she continued, a little oblivious as to what was going through Kurt’s head.

“I’d… I’d like that,” Kurt said, smiling. “Um… Also, do you… is there any way I could have a look at his phone?”

If Mrs. Anderson thought there was anything strange about this request, she didn’t show it. “It’s in his room, go ahead.”

Kurt nodded, and made his way upstairs and into Blaine’s room for the first time since… well, since he had left for New York so long ago.

It was almost the same, the pictures a little different, but it was so familiar to Kurt that it hurt him a little.

The phone was sitting on Blaine’s nightstand, right in front of a couple of picture frames that Kurt could see were filled with pictures of the two of them, one picture from right before he had left, and the other with their prom photo from three years ago.

Kurt sat down on Blaine’s bed and picked up the phone, unlocking it (because of course Blaine still had the same passcode as he had so long ago) and tapping the few buttons required to get to Blaine’s messages. There was only one unsent text there, and it was to Kurt.

_To: Kurt_

_I love y_

_Of course_. Kurt thought, smiling down at the screen, raising his arm to wipe away the tears beginning to form yet again.

*

McKinley hadn’t changed much either, the dirty tile and the brightly lit hallways just the same as they had been the last time Kurt was there.

The hallways were all empty; everyone had either left for the day or were in their respective clubs. Kurt liked it better this way, nobody there to confront him for being there when he wasn’t a student anymore.

Kurt stopped at the door to the choir room, hesitating a moment before opening the door, still unsure if he really wanted to do what he had come here to do.

Blaine’s school picture from that year and a vase of flowers were sitting on top of the bookshelf right near the door, and Kurt couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few moments.

“Uh, Kurt,” Mr. Schue said, causing Kurt to look up and notice that everyone was staring at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… I don’t want to interrupt,” Kurt stammered, looking around at the rest of the room, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Nah, it’s cool. We were just goin’ over the songs we’re thinking about doing for some assembly this week,” a guy sitting in the back of the room said, flashing Kurt a grateful smile.

“Ah… alright.” Kurt said, walking into the center of the room. “I… I wanted to sing something, is that okay?”

“Go ahead, the floor is yours,” Mr. Schue conceded, the rest of the club nodding gratefully or looking like they didn’t care at all what was going on.

“Thank you.” Kurt said, finally meeting the stares of everyone in the room as he continued, “There’s a story that goes along with the song I want to sing.”

Nobody made any sort of noise at that, and Kurt continued on.

“Um. Well, it all started with a boy. He was… he was lonely, even though he had friends, and one day, he decided to go spy on a rival glee club on the suggestion of one of those friends. And there, he met this guy. He was wonderful and kind and quickly became the boy’s best friend. And then, the boy sang this song, the one I’m about to sing, and, well, the two of them… got together. And they were happy. A few things went wrong, but… but it’ll all be okay. Eventually.”

Everyone was giving Kurt the same look, smiling but clearly confused, and he just shook his head, not wanting to explain in more detail. “I’m just… I’m just gonna sing the song now.”

He walked over and told both Brad and the band the song he wanted to sing, and almost immediately, they started playing the all too familiar tune.

Kurt took a deep breath as he waited for his cue, and smiled, hoping Blaine could hear him, wherever he was.

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._

_All your life,_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise…”_

*

_Kurt Hummel, Tony Award-winning Broadway actor and editor at Vogue.com, passed away this weekend at the age of 83, leaving behind his only daughter, writer Elizabeth Blair Hummel. When asked for a comment on her father’s passing, Elizabeth merely stated that, “He’s with Blaine now.” An inside source claims that this ‘Blaine’ is Kurt Hummel’s long-dead love, and that Elizabeth considers him to be her other father. No comment has been made to either affirm or deny this claim._

*

There was a bright light and the sound of laughter all around Kurt.

A hand was touching his face, gentle and loving and familiar, and Kurt melts into the touch, not wanting to open his eyes.

More laughter echoed around him, and Kurt felt his heart ache because no, it couldn’t be, it’d been so long since he had heard that sound…

Kurt opened his eyes, squinting in the bright light at the dark shape hovering over him, inhaling sharply when he was able to make out the person’s face, tears already beginning to prick at his eyes.

“Hey.” Blaine said, his voice wavering and choked, but smiling in that huge, bright way that meant he was extremely happy. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Kurt made a noise that was a cross between a sob and a laugh, launching himself up and wrapping his arms around Blaine, who pulled Kurt even closer to his body.

“I missed you. So much,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s neck, clinging even tighter when Blaine attempted to pull him away so that he could look Kurt in the eyes.

“I did too,” Blaine laughed. There was a short pause, and then Blaine continued, “You… you adopted a daughter?”

“Mhmm.” Kurt hummed, smiling into Blaine’s neck. “She looks like you, did you know that?”

Blaine snorted, and then asked, his voice small and wondrous, “You didn’t… marry anyone? Or see anyone else? This whole time?”

“Nope.” Kurt told him, finally pulling away and looking Blaine in the eyes as he continued, “I went out with a couple guys, and some of them were nice and handsome and all that jazz but… they just weren’t you.”

Blaine smiled and tugged Kurt in for another bone-crushing hug.

“I love you.” Kurt murmured, pressing a light kiss onto Blaine’s neck.

“Until the end of time?” Blaine asked.

“Until the end of time.”

_“I love you forever, forever and always_

_Please just remember even if I’m not there_

_I’ll always love you, forever and always”_

_-Parachute, Forever and Always_


End file.
